Elementary
by Pirrip
Summary: Sherlock is required to look after a teenager, Pip "For 24 hours. And only because I have to." With the web of crinimals closing in around them, can John get them to work together to solve the case of the disapearing child? Or will Pip continue to throw objects at the client's head whilst a bored Sherlock sniggers?
1. The Wall

**Okay, so I'm going to try and do a story every two days. _But_ I'm busy at school so I may miss a chapter. If this happens I will update two stories on the next post. And please ****give me feedback. I write better with reviews. ;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Sherlock Holmes was staring at the wall. Not that he was saying it wasn't a nice wall (The bullet holes gave it a kind of character you could only get from being assaulted by a jaded genius) but John had never seen Sherlock wait patiently for so long. John didn't think he was ruminating anything of purpose- that usually involved a lot more arm waving.

"Erm… what are you doing?"

As if it wasn't obvious, "I'm waiting, John"

"Er… Right. Okay… Are you- are you waiting for anything in particular?"

Sherlock swung his head round to glare at his flatmate, "Yes John. I'm waiting for someone in particular." He sighed, his gaze returning to the wall.

John sniffed the air, "No need to be so patronising."

"Did you say something?"

John sniffed again. What was that smell? Could it be-? No. It couldn't be. Really?

Walking towards the laboratory cum kitchen John glanced around trying to find the source of the smell, "So this person. Is it about the case?"

Sherlock smirked- the only expression he seemed capable of, "What case?"

John opened the fridge, "The bleached soldier." Not in there.

"It could be; I texted her. Said something about a Mr Emsworth. You'll need to look into that."

By now, John had looked through all the cupboards. What on earth was it? Turning, the smoking tray caught his eye, "What. On. Earth. Is. That."

"It's a present! It's for- here she is now!"

John stared at him. Sherlock Holmes giving someone a present?

"You intend to give them that?"

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><p>Thanks for reading. :) - ριяяιρ<p> 


	2. Murky Grey

**Chapter 2: Murky Grey**

The front door slammed and the sound of someone bounding up the stairs three steps at a time crashed up to them.

A young woman, 16 at the least, appeared at the top of the steps. She ran into the room, her waist length murky grey hair streaming behind her. She stopped by the arm of Sherlock's chair, pausing. He didn't look up. The girl looked confused, her emerald eyes darting back a forth, "Oh!" she exclaimed, running back to the door and sharply knocking upon it twice.

She looked to Sherlock, "Sorry."

Sherlock heaved himself out of his chair. Turning to the girl, he glared, a look that would send any bad guy back into his cave. The moment lengthened, the girl's seemingly verdant gaze shimmering back.

Several moments passed before Sherlock smiled and asked "Good day?" The girl jumped into the air; throwing herself across the room into Sherlock's arms. (He patted her back awkwardly. Did people hug upon arriving in their flat? He supposed so. That what's-her-face, Lisa, she always jumped at John…)

"-And-I-missed-you-and-" The girl stopped to draw breath, "-And-I-was-going-to-visit-Mycroft-later-but-he's-at-the-palace-again-and-I-couldn't-leave-a-message-'cos-I-don't-think-his-new-secretary-likes-me-and-"

"STOP" John yelled, looking between the slightly gauche Sherlock and the bubbly teenager exasperatedly "I'm sorry but... who the hell are you?"

The girl looked up at him from where she was now sitting cross-legged on the floor trying to tie the stunned Sherlock's shoelaces together. Sherlock yanked his foot away but the girl didn't seem to notice, "Me? Oh, I'm Pip!"

Pip jumped up in one fluid movement, brushing her stormy hair over one shoulder, "Have you eaten yet? I'm hungry. Food is an important part of a balanced diet you know. Got any chips?"


	3. Black Hole

**Chapter 3: Black Hole**

"It's like having an amazing blender, but you don't have a top for it." Sherlock muttered gazing at the girl running around the kitchen tipping things out of boxes and slamming cupboard doors shut, "She can soon whip a case into shape but you have to clean up afterwards."

"She's like a black hole," mumbled John, "is she always like this?"

Sherlock paused cocking his head to one side, "Yes and no… She'll calm down a bit if we give her coffee."

"Won't that make her worse? She might… turn a gun on the wall or something!"

Sherlock glared at him and then continued disregarding the remark, "Coffee has to opposite effect on her. But you should hide your gun. She's no stranger to weapons…" he paused, "when she visited last year she tried to bring a cutlass through customs and when she got stopped in the airport she told the customs officer she needed it to cut up watermelons. She still got off without charge."

John looked at the teenager in wonder, "So... You have to babysit her for the day?"

"For 24 hours. And only because I have to."

"...But why?"

Sherlock looked at his flatmate for a moment. He continued to look at John for a minute or two before turning away, muttering, "I am required to. I tried to palm her off on Mycroft but Mother forbade it."

"Your mother forbade-" John began before Sherlock coughed loudly.

As if commanded Pip turned, "What's that smell?" she asked. Glancing around Pip's eyes located the smouldering tray John had stumbled upon earlier.

Pip looked at the crusted tray. "It's burnt," she stated.

Sherlock looked down (The detective... embarressed!? John thought), "Yes, I…"

"The mighty Sherlock Holmes defeated by an oven?" the girl grinned, hurdling into Sherlock's arms, "Why thank-you very much for my birthday cake corpse!"


	4. Merciless

**Chapter 4**

"That's meant to be a _cake_?!" cried John after Pip had returned to attacking the kitchen, "Why didn't you just ask Mrs Hudson to make one?"

Sherlock looked at the floor aggravated. Pip turned to face them, throwing an array of kitchen cutlery over her shoulder, "How is Mrs H. anyway?"

"You know Mrs Hudson?!" exclaimed John.

"She's fine" Sherlock sniffed, "Still thinks you should move into 221C."

"How do you know Mrs Hudson?" John yelled, he was completely ignored.

"I'm not moving anywhere. I'm still living with Mom. She says she hates you by the way."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "I can't see why."

"Why does she-" John stopped, sighing, "Oh."

"Oh what?"

"Everyone hates you. You're merciless."

Pip straightened her black t-shirt studying the floor, "He lets me stay here."

Sherlock stared at the child, "Once a year. For 24 hours. And only because I have to."

"Yeah and don't you love it." Pip grinned manically at the floorboards as Sherlock glared at her.

John looked between the pair confused, "I don't think I understand… She has to visit?"

Sherlock narrowed his hard green eyes, "You don't understand? Even you should be able to grasp this."

"Well I don't."

Pip glanced up, "…Want to ponder it over some of this delightful cake?"


	5. Problems

If you see any spelling mistakes or anything, please inform me. The spell check on my computer has left to live on mars with David Bowie…Chapter 5

The next morning, John awoke to what seemed to be the sound of and alley cat being chased by a chainsaw. With his hands over his ears, he stumbled out of bed and into the living room.

There stood Sherlock, a black outline against the window. He seemed to be teaching Pip how to play the violin. That or he was attacking her with it. John groaned but before he could tell them to be quiet the doorbell rang. Pip sighed retreating to the kitchen. Sherlock looked around expectantly, "Client" he stated.

The man who appeared at the top of the stairs was clearly distraught. He stopped at the doorway surveying his surroundings whilst running a thin hand through his cropped copper hair. His eyes met John's, "You never returned my message Mr Holmes", he said in a posh English accent.

"I'm not Sherlock Holmes" John told him, "He is."

Looking embarrassed, the man turned to the tall sharp man who had now abandoned his violin in favour of the day's newspaper.

"Mr Holmes?" the man asked, "Mr Holmes, I need your help"

Scrutinising the man, Sherlock motioned vaguely to the chair opposite him, "Sit" her muttered, taking a bite out of an apple.

John sat down at the table, leaning forwards. This should be good.

"Speak" instructed Sherlock.

"Mr Holmes, my name is James Dodd. I inderstand that you deal with… problems…"

Sherlock leaned forward, cocking his head to one side, "And you have a problem."

"The butler did it with the lead pipe in the drawing room" Pip called from the kitchen.

Sherlock sighed, leaning back, "Ignore her. Please continue."

"Right- yes- okay. I have- I have reason to believe that there is a young girl- a young girl who is missing… missing and possibly dead…"

**Please review- It's like cookie dough and ice cream. ;) – ριяяιρ**


	6. Greatest Minds

Chapter 6

"So who is this child?" asked Sherlock, giving the man no time to catch his breath.

Pip walked into the room and went to sit on the table. John started to protest but Pip waves a hand in his face and threw his newspaper at him.

James Dodd looked rather scared, probely wondering what on earth he had got himself into, "Um, well, whilst I was at university I lived in one of the local council estates with some friends. There was a eldery couple who lived just down the road who I would often help out by helping them with their shopping and doing any odd jobs-"

James stopped. Partly because Sherlock was looking bored and partly because Pip had throw a newspaper at his head. "Can we please get to the bit about the girl?" whined Pip.

James looked between Sherlock and John, settling on John (the one who looked the least likely to kill him out of boredom), "I'm getting to it, I'm getting to it… Does that child have to be in the room?"

Sherlock stared at the man for a moment, "You can say anything you would say to me in front of her. She has one of the greatest minds in the world."

"Yes er well, could you please er ask her not to er… throw random objects at me?"

Please review- It'll make my day. ;) – ριяяιρ 


	7. Show Off

**I would like to dedicate this chapter to addicted2fic – Sorry if the chapter lengths are to small, it's just how it fell. J**

**Also, thanks to BrodyMichael, TicTacToe21, Sarah, and YouRepelMe. You guys rock.**

**And last but not least, to BatTitan – thanks for taking the time. x**

**Wow, I've gone all soppy. 0-0 Never thought that would happen. ;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

"That is not something we can control," muttered John.

"Oh for Gods sakes. Tell us about the damn girl!" shouted Sherlock.

Sherlock paused looking at the outraged faces around him, "Not good?"

James Dodd looked flustered, half rising out of his seat before remembering the reason he had approached 'this mad house' and sat down again, "As- as I was saying- I used to help this elderly couple out from time to time-"

"-And this couple looked after the child in question," interrupted Sherlock.

"Yes. Yes but how did you- did you guess?"

"Ordinary people," Sherlock sighed looking down at his clasped hands, "How dull it must be in your tiny little brains."

"Dull" echoed Pip, clasping her hands like Sherlock as John tried to reach around her to get the cereal box.

Ignoring the teenager who was still sat on top of the table, Sherlock continued his narrative, "I didn't guess, I saw. It's simple, there is a photo sticking out of your left pocket showing a couple that look to be in their mid-seventies and a small child. The couple are more likely closer to eighty due to the style and brand of their clothing. A very particular brand, often worn by older people. Their body language is restricted, showing that although they like the child, it either does not like them or is not related to them. More likely the latter as the child seems happy."

James stared at Sherlock amazed.

Pip looked between James and Sherlock, brushing her long hair over her shoulder, "Show off," she muttered.

**Please review- It will help Sherlock concentrate. *Innocent* – ριяяιρ**


	8. Telling Stories

**Chapter 8**

"I'd often spoken to Githa when I'd been at the Johnson's house -they're the couple who looked after her from time to time- and she'd often told me that she loved her front garden above all else. Githa stopped playing in her front garden some two months ago. I didn't think much of it but I relised a short while ago that I hadn't seen her at the Johnson's either. I haven't seen her at all for six months."

"And you believe something is amiss," Sherlock stated, "Surely the girl could just be playing in the back garden? Or staying in the house?"

"They don't have a back garden. None of the houses on the street do. And it's not just the Johnson's who haven't seen her, I've asked around. Nobody has." James seemed more self assured now; perhaps because Pip had stopped throwing things at his head, "I tried to speak to Mr Emsworth, Githa's father, but he wouldn't answer his door. I had to call at the house twice before he answered and then he told me that Githa had left to live with her mother. I didn't believe him- Githa once told me that her mother died in a car accident when she was little."

Sherlock looked at the man blankly and asked, "Are you sure her mother died? Not just a little girl telling stories?"

Pip sighed, "The kid's name is Emsworth right?"

James turned, a look of mild surprise appearing on his face (was this child addressing him?), "Yes."

"And her mother would have died about four years ago, yeah?"

James' eyes flitted to Sherlock who was gazing the opposite way. He turned back to Pip, "Well, yes."

Pip closed her eyes murmuring under her breath, "Yes, thirty eight year old women, husband, daughter, stable job. Killed by twenty one year old male in a stolen Porsche 997. Died instantly at the scene of the crime on the 21st of January 2008 at 21:04."

Pip looked up at the various amazed faces surrounding her, "What?"

**Please review- If you don't the world will end. Possibly. 0-0 Oh all right then, it won't. But please do review. ;) – ριяяιρ**


	9. Whereabouts

**This chapter's a day late... Sorry about that... :)**

**Oh- and if anyone can come up with a good summary for this story please tell me. I'll love you forever. :)**

**As always thank-you for reading. You guys rock!  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

After Pip had explained that she helped on the case ("You would have been twelve!" exclaimed John. "Eleven actually. It happened a week before my birthday."), James continued with his tale, "The next day I went back to the house. Mr Emsworth told me the same story about Githa going to live with her mother and when I told him I knew about her mother's death he impled that I was lying about even knowing Githa. He also wouldn't give me the child's new address so that I could send her a letter."

James paused taking a sip of water from the glass John had brought him.

"Don't stop for God's sake!" thundered Sherlock, "Continue with the story!"

James looked at Sherlock, frozen with the glass halfway to his lips. He looked like he was going to take another sip but then seemed to think better of it, placing his glass back down upon floor.

"Well," James began clasping and unclasping his hands, "I was still determined to find out what had happened to Githa so that evening I went to speak to the Johnson's. You know, to see if they knew anything about the whereabouts of the girl."

Sherlock lent forwards, concentrating entirly on the story, "And what did they say?"

James coughed before answering, "Well, I went to talk to Ralph Johnson. When he mentioned Githa in the past tense, I began to think that Githa was dead. When I asked if she was, Ralph told me that no, she wasn't, but that it might be better that way."

"Better that way?" John asked, watching Sherlock for a response.

"Yes well, I think her father beat her. Githa was terified of death."

Sherlock placed the tips of his fingers together in his 'thinking pose' leaning forwards further until he was on the tip of the seat, "Then why didn't you go to the police?"

James looked uncomforatble, "Well… there were never any marks."

John frowned, "So he was mentally abusing her?"

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><p><strong>Please review- It'll make me smile. :D – ριяяιρ<strong>


	10. The Basement

**Okay, so a lot of you are asking why the chapters aren't longer. When I started this story I wanted to post quite often so you all didn't have to wait for the next part of the story for ages. For that reason it's little and often until I have time to sit down a write a boatload. :D**

**Special thanks to addicted2fic and BrodyMichael for reviewing more than once. It means a lot to me.**

**Aye-Aye57, I'm glad you like the story. As to whether Pip is Sherlock's sister or not… You will find out how they know each other but not for a few chapters. ;)**

**Anyway, on with the story!**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 10<span>**

"That's more likely," muttered Sherlock, "Continue."

"Yes well, that night I dreamt that Githa appeared at the door of the bedroom I was sleeping in. There she was looking ghastly pale, just standing there in the doorway. She disapeared when she saw that I was looking straight at her. Then I awoke. I went to open the window to get some fresh air and saw somebody entering the Emsworth's basement," James paused, taking another sip of his drink.

"Then…?" promted Pip.

"Erm yes- Then I decided to follow the figure. I climed out of the window so I wouldn't wake the Johnson's. I ended up at the back of the Emsworth's house. I was going to take a look around but it was dark and I didn't have a torch or anything so I went back to bed with the intention of coming back the next day. When the Johnson's asked me if I wanted to stay another night I accepted. I went looking about the Emsworth's property and saw a figure leaving the basement. I waited until nobody was around then went to door of the basement. Finding a crack in the door, I looked in."

"What did you see?" asked Pip quietly.

"I thought he could see Githa hunched in the corner of the room, but I could not see very clearly so I cannot be sure. At this point I was hit upon the shoulder. I turned to see Mr Emsworth, beside himself with rage. He made it plain to me that he would call the police if I didn't leave his property immdeiatly. He even went as far as to throw a book at the back of my head as I left."

Sherlock leaned back, reclasping his hands. On the other side of the room, Pip mimicked him exactly. Sherlock tilted his head to one side, "And you came straight here?" he asked.

"Well- there is, after all, only a few reasons why a man would shut his young daughter in the basement…"

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><p><strong>Please review- Githa needs you. 0-0 – ριяяιρ<strong>


	11. Cornflakes

**Okay so I finally listened. I've just written chapter 14 on my computer and it is about two or three times the lenght of this one. Just 'cos I love y'all. Until we get to that point though, the chapters are going to stay ruffly the same...**

**Special thanks to Gryphon31 and BatTitan for your pearls of wisdom. :)**

**And addicted2fic, you totally rock.**

**Last but not least, a GIANT thank-you to Blackcurrant Bonbons for Beta-ing this chapter - you rule Shona! ;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

Sherlock rose, and began pacing the room, "How old is the girl?" he asked, moving to the sofa, where he sank down and closed his eyes.

"Five years old."

Sherlock said nothing, thinking hard. The silence grew.

"I know!" cried Pip, jumping off the table and knocking John's almost finished bowl of cornflakes into his lap, "Let's go visit them dressed as pirates!"

Sherlock frowned turning to the crazed teenager, "Why?" he asked.

Pip rolled her eyes, "It'll worry them into submission. Duh."

"Well it would do that…" muttered John, wiping the soggy cornflakes of his shirt with Pip's discarded scarf.

"Well, you told me that the art of disguise is hiding in plain sight!" Pip cried, grabbing hold of Sherlock's thin wrist, "See, I do listen to you!"

Shaking his head in amazement, Sherlock turned to James and began to question him further, "Did you see the name of the book the girl's father threw at you?"

James thought for a moment, before replying, "I cannot be absolutely sure of it, but I think it was a self help book of some kind. Maybe it was about… I'm not sure."

Despite James not being able to remember the name of the book, Sherlock seems satisfied with the answer. Only one piece of evidence was missing.

Getting up, Sherlock slipped his coat on, "We will be visiting Mr Emsworth" he said, wrapping his own scarf around his neck, "But not, Pip, dressed as pirates."

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><p><strong>Please review- It might make it snow… – ριяяιρ<strong>


	12. Smelly Evidence

**Chapter 12**

Sherlock, John, James and Pip soon arrived at the Tuxbury Park Council Estate. After James had shown them which house was the Emsworth's residence, Sherlock began to scour the surronding area. He soon found the clue that he needed; a small battered backpack hidden behind some overflowing bins. Sherlock carefully tucked the smelly evidence into his pocket, giving Pip a mordant look.

From the doorway of the tiny semi-attached house came a shout of fury. The middle aged man in front of them was what Sherlock would have called "a ludicrous attempt at a human being". John watched in amazement as this whale of a man waddled towards them, his three chins wobbling as he knocked the door out of the way. His small black eyes glistened dangerously. Stumbling down the path, the man John took to be Mr Emsworth began to shout abuse, "I will summon the police if y'all do not leave my property- I will! Get off my property or I'll call the police!" Mr Emsworth threatened, his rash accent attacking the words like a starved hound savaging a slab of meat.

"Oh, we won't be leaving," Sherlock told the man bored, "We have come here to learn the whereabouts of your daughter."

Mr Emsworth's eyes widened momentary, Sherlock logged the action in his mind for future reference. Before the man could defend himself, Sherlock cried, "Do not waste my time Mr Emsworth. I already know that the child is dead."

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><p><strong>Okay so this chapter is just here to push the plot along. Not a lot of... Pip throwing stuff.<strong>

**Tell me what you think of the story so far. :D**

**Trust no one. Suspect everyone. – ριяяιρ**


	13. Cheekbones

**Sorry for the long wait. I have had a lot of exams at school this past week. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, hopefully before the end of the week. Thank y'all for waiting. :)**

****Oh another thing, if you haven't heard of him already, check out Dirk Gently books. Dirk Gently is a fictional detective created by the brilliant Douglas Adams. I highly recommend them.****

**Blame *insert name of scapegoat here* for this chapter. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

A stunned gasp rushed through the gathering. Sherlock looked up puzzled, "Well not dead… Did I say dead?"

"Poor man," James thought looking in John's direction, "First that damn girl, now cheekbones over there. I'ld hate to live in that house…"

John took a deep breath, "Yes Sherlock," he said through gritted teeth, "You said dead."

The consulting detective smirked, "Ordinary people" he muttered sniggered, shaking his dark curls before turning to the rather scared Mr Emsworth, and saying, "I have looked about your rather meagre property and have deduced that this…" he sneered, "…mystery-"

"Dick," muttered John.

"-can be summed up in one word," Sherlock looked around himself, meeting each of his associates eyes. He nodded slightly before turning on his heel and strolling away.

James looked at John in alarm, stressed again, "But- but, what is the- who…?"

Sherlock paused, turning the collar of his coat up in one fluid motion, "Let's talk to the child first. Pip should have sorted everything by now."

The party behind him looked around in amazement for the hurricane child. Sherlock mouth twitched into something that could only be described as a grin.

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><p><strong>If you open your mind to much your brain will fall out. – ριяяιρ<strong>


	14. Cinderella

**This chapter is dedicated to Whisper. I can't thank you enough for all your reviews. :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

Sherlock strode towards the door leading to the basement of the Emsworth's household with his hands in his pockets with James, John and Githa's father trailing behind him. Arriving at the small trapdoor, John noticed that the door had several deep welts in it. Pip had obviously decided that hitting the wooden door repeatedly was a better way to make it open than picking the lock.

As they descended into the clammy gloom, they began to hear sounds from below, "…danced happily until the clock struck twelve…"

Soon Sherlock could see crouched Pip in the corner of the room comforting a scruffy child with messy deep brown ringlets. The child was hunched as far into the corner of the small space as possible, her face and shoulders hidden by the darkness. Pip seemed to be telling Githa a story, waving her arms around in a graceful fashion- much unlike Pip's usual demeanour (which consisted of 'Bored' and 'Annoying').

'How… unique,' thought Sherlock glancing over Pip's features, 'I thought Philadelphia had gotten out of that stupid fantasy world? She needs to concentrate on her work, not imaginary people's imaginary lives. What must they be teaching her? Maybe it's been a slow week for her; a mind like that would tear itself to pieces without problems to solve. Or maybe she just has a bigger…' He frowned. Where had that come from?

"…Cinderella cried out as she turned and darting away. The handsome prince watched as the beautiful girl left the palace. How would he find her again? He didn't even know her name… Luckily he then spotted a shining glass slipper, forsaken on the staircase," Pip stopped, her face falling back into boredom as she surveyed her new audience. Her features filled with disgust at the sight of the girl's father.

Githa looked hungrily up at Pip, her eyes like round pools of mud in a spa, "Then what happened?" She whispered tugging at Pip's trailing sleeve to get her attention, "Tell me what happened next!"

With her eyes still on Githa's father Pip murmured "All right everyone, line up alphabetically according to your height."

John looked confused.

Githa tugged upon Pip's sleeve more urgently, "No Pip! Pip, you have to tell me what happened to Cinderella! Pip!"

Turning back to the child Pip once again became animated as she continued with her story, "The Prince scrutinised the glass slipper closely… It was the same as-"

Githa tugged upon Pip's sleeve once more, "Then what! Then what!"

Pip hugged the girl, "It was the same as Cinderella's. The Prince was filled with joy. He would be able to find Cinderella again" Pip paused before continuing more softly, "In that moment the clock finished chiming. On its last shuddering gong, the glass slipper dissolved into sand, the magic ending. As the sand fell through his fingers, the Prince began to cry. Never would he find the beautiful girl he danced with" Pip glanced up at Sherlock, her eyes swimming with emotion, before turning back to Githa. As she gazed into the young girl's eyes she whispered, "And in that short moment the Prince's world fell apart."

The room was quiet for a moment before Githa asked quietly, "…Why didn't the fairy godmother help the Prince?"

"Not everybody has a fairy godmother Gee. Some people have to make their own."

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><p><strong>This is just a little look into Pip's life. I hope it makes sense. She'll be back to being 'Pip' in the next chapter. Did you like her version of Cinderella?<strong>

**And you learnt Pip's name! Philadelphia. *Snigger* Yes everyone, Pip's named after cheese… Oh alright then. She isn't named after cheese…**

**Right, I'll explain the name thing. Get ready to be thoroughly confused:**

**Pip calls herself Pip, **███████████ **calls her Pirrip, █**██████████** calls her ****Philadelphia and John just calls her annoying.**

**Okay. Now that I have turned this into a mass of blacked out lines (it gave too much away) and thoroughly confused you (and myself), I will bid you a good day. ;) **

**"I pretty much try to stay in a constant state of confusion just because of the expression it leaves on my face." ****- ριяяιρ**


	15. Sherlock needs YOU!

**Authors Note:**

Okay, so I'm really sorry for not writing any more of the story for a while. Yes I know. I suck.

I haven't written because... Well... I have more than one ending for this story. I've got about three different endings at the moment as well as a few less formed ideas. Each idea will take the story in a different direction.

So here's the deal. I love all the endings, and rather than fretting about which ending you guys will like the most, I want YOU to decide.

All you need to do is tell me what you want to have happen in the end of the story. Speculate the ending. The ending will still follow one of the ideas I already have, but this way I can get a grasp on what YOU guys expect from the storyline.

Simply just drop your ideas into a review or suchlike and I'll make sure I have the end of the story up soon.

Also, if you've seen my profile page you might know that I've just started 6th Form, so am stuck for time to write. Well I'm going to make time. Just 'cos I'm nice like that. ;)

Thank you for all the support I've had so far. You guys rock. And remember- I want to get this story finished because YOU want to read the rest.

Hugs, Emily. ^o^


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